Suzanne Vega & Madonna - I make video and haikus

My first cassette tape:
Suzanne Vega's Solitude
Still I sing her songs!



Who's That Girl Album
Singing the songs with Julie
In Garden City

Whoa Here She Comes

The word is "Whoa."

As in:

Whoa here she comes
Watch out boy, she'll chew you up
whoa here she comes
she's a maneater

I have been using songs to get the actors singing, so that the words become less intimidating with a familiar melody. Once we have successfully sung the song, I go back to the text and ask them to say it again. It's amazing how the delivery changes. Blends together. Becomes more about saying something to someone else and less about getting the words right. If you don't recognize the lyrics above, that's a Hall & Oates 80's Classic called "Maneater."

"What's a maneater?" one of my students asked. "Good question," I say, walking over to my laptop and hitting play on the track. The drums start in and it's so early 80's I cannot help but bounce to the beat, thinking of Martha Quinn, shoulder pads, leather pants and guys with hairsprayed perms. But the song is not just great for creating a mood -- the beat is easy to remember. Easy to put words to. I lean against one of the walls, my head bouncing ever so slightly, but oh so rightly, to the synthesized percussion. Then I put on my bedroom eyes. It's so easy for me -- being cheezy. I toss my hair to both sides even though it's in a pony tail, sip my imaginary chablis, and look around the room with hungry eyes. As in Dirty Dancing with Patrick Swayze and his "Hungry Eyes." One look at you and I can't describe, I get...

My students are laughing. They get it. So then we do it, all of us sing together:

Whoa here she comes
watch out boy, she'll chew you up
whoa here she comes
she's a maneater!

But their 'whoa' is still stiff and sounds more like "wow." I say "whoa, whoa, whoa," cuz I gotta tell them about "whoa." "Whoa," when by itself, is usually a reaction of some kind, indicating surprise. It's an announcement, like a spoken exclamation point. Your kid chugs his glass of milk in one feel swoop and says: "ahhh!" to which you reply: "Whoa!" A box of ornaments fall from the attic ladder step to the hallway just missing your head and you say: "whoa," (or any number of expletives -- but this is a PG class so far). You are Keanu Reeves in Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure and you've just traveled back in time, AND you live in Encino. KEANU REEVES: "Whoa."

When "whoa" is repeated more than once, "whoa, whoa," or "whoa, whoa, whoa," it's putting on the brakes; you want someone or something to stop. Your friend, who has been up for 5 days straight on cough syrup, is rambling about a new plan to set the school on fire to avoid midterms -- and wants you to buy a gallon of gasoline. You say: "whoa, whoa, whoa, Martel -- chill." Your wife blames you for having stinky feet and you say: "whoa, whoa, whoa Wendy -- you're the one that bought me these sheepskin slippers that make my feet itch and sweat." The Ghostbusters stand on a rooftop, fighting to keep their minds blank to avoid death and the destruction of Manhattan -- when they are told that their Finisher has been chosen. "Whoa, whoa, whoa." That's impossible. They all kept their minds empty, right? Except for Dan Akroyd's character -- who thinks of the most benevolent image imagineable: The State Puffed Marshmallow Man. And then we see him, coming around the corner in that sailor boy hat with those big freaky eyes and a distorted devilish grin. The State Puffed Marshmallow Man. And we say: "Whoa."

They get it. So we sing it again -- and this time it's great. I write another four lines on the wipeboard -- with the same beats as the lyrics.

Sign your name right here
Don't forget to put the date
Write your name right here
And your birthday

But this time I give them a scene about signing up for a lottery to win an apartment in Greenwich Village (funny how these exercises have begun to incorporate my fantasies). Everyone takes a turn. I clap and say: "Yokatta!" You did it.

Then we do an improv. Three actors and I give them their environment, the lines they have to say at some point (in English), their characters, and a small back story. It's Yukine, Mai and Koichi. I worried at first that I gave them too much info and I'm sure I'm going to have to stop them, adjust them -- but then the scene starts and I don't want it to stop. There was no pushing. No indicating. No acting. Just moment to moment. Loved this. I LOVED THIS. Told them that this was the scene we would be going back to when we get to scripts and everyone freezes up. That this is the model for how any script or scene should feel. Real.

Today I felt like a Bona Fide, Superfly, Hang to Dry -- Sensei.
Whoa.

Tekkonkinkreet

I watched "Tekkonkinkreet" tonight -- an animated feature in Japanese by Michael Arias. Every frame so beautiful. So much like the Japan that stops me...the composition of lines and signs and streets that seem almost like sets -- they are so clean and mijikai -- narrow. I didn't get a lot of the nuance with story and relationships as I had no subtitles -- just the spoken Japanese. But the camera movements were hot and so many of the angles were unexpected. Almost docu style within this super colorful and painted world.

I also watched "All About My Mother" for the first time the other night in Spanish with Japanese sub-titles. That is a surreal film to not know exactly what's being said. Every time I thought I had the gist of what was happening, I would get thrown for a loop. I had to google a story synopsis today but am still confused about who the transvestite was in the very last scene at the funeral of Penelope Cruz's character. I understood that he was the father of Rosa's baby -- but he looked just like Estaban (the dead son) so then I got really confused. If anyone can enlighten me -- there be muchos gracias for you.

Cooked fish tonight in the broiler. Spread a little wasabi on before the broil and it did nicely. Cooked up so fast. Thinking I will try to run tomorrow before work but best hit the hay. Read through Sore Thumb and like it again. A map of Tokyo from the 1960's is on my fridge. On the top left corner it says: "Tokyo Metropolis." Someone (a friend of my Mom's?) gave it to me all those years ago, before my journey as an exchange student. It smells like a book from the library and has an alphabetical listing of all the museums and shrine locations. Something about it being tangible on my refrigerator that's so much better than the i-touch map. Seeing where the water is somehow puts things in perspective in terms of east, west, north, south. I love maps.

Just read the Oscar announcements. Exciting stuff. I want to see Black Swan, 127 Hours and The Kings Speech. Don't think those will be playing over here for a while...

What am I waiting for?

I'm having a bit of an artist's block. A bit of writer's block. A bit of an existential moment. Not 'crisis,' because it's not that critical. But a moment, to be sure.

What am I waiting for? To create something that is really mine. Here. Now. No one else is going to do it for me. I watched NINE the other night, with Daniel Day Lewis and all those gals...all those big stars...you'd call them "Bijin" here -- beautiful women. I appreciated the movie -- the dance numbers, the costumes, the aerial shots in Italy and the flashback sequences in black and white where the childhood of this boy played out like any 1940's photo that can now be found in the college bookstores, beckoning the freshman who are eager to put something meaningful and artsy on their walls. My favorite character was Judi Dench, Bruno's costume designer, because everything she does and says is so true. But also because I like the way it gave the costume designer their due. I thought of Marlene Stewart, Shawn's costume designer on the two movies I was on set for. Marlene Stewart who created Madonna in the 1980's and who, like Cynthia Karalla -- is synonymous in my mind with the word 'artist.' For their vision and what they produce. They create worlds.

But I digress. Daniel Day Lewis's character is living his life like a movie -- instead of making his movie. It only struck me today, while I was running laps around a dirt track in the park, with views of the buildings in Tokyo, shuffling through my ipod shuffle, waiting for just the right song to match the landscape that is here, that is now...that I realized a small comparison with the plight of that fictional director character -- and myself. I have never directed a feature. And yet it is all I think about when my heart starts pumping and music flips the switch on my imagination. I fantasize about a homemade dolly. I turn a street and assess the grade, knowing that the cobble will surely make a bicycle dolly or even a hand cart insufficient. I am constantly picturing these opening credits. I admire title sequences and think of my own. That as of yet unincorporated production company I will call Dodge Art Productions. We will start at the moment a dart is thrown though black space, riding with it towards some unseen destination. The sound of the wind catching the feathers in the dart. And then, it will connect with a point of white, at which time the sound effect of a trunk slamming will reverberate as the camera pulls back and the words, in 1970's Dodge font, will come into focus. A shadow cast from the point that the dart hit, the bottom of the A, casting a shadow that looks like a D...

I am immediately afraid of failure. There, I said it. Afraid to focus on just that one thing because there are so many other things I must be focusing on. But if not now, when? Here, as I am, with this artist in residence existence. Don't I know enough about this place and my take on it?

At present, I am searching through clips on the internet. Here in this technological jungle I surf at random, coming upon an old Joan Crawford movie called "Humoresque." Black and White, shoulder padded Joan, with so much diva in every frame that you can almost hear her shouting "NO WIRE HANGERS!!!" to her cowering daughter Christina who wrote the tell all MOMMIE DEAREST. I read it at some point in my adolescence (after Clan of the Cave Bear and before Garden of Shadows) -- and I loved it. I loved the excess, the drama, the tyranny and the betrayals. It was like DALLAS. Except it was based on a woman who once lived in Hollywood and who was called, and still is called, a 'movie star.'

After my run I went shopping today. I wanted to find a pair of black shoes I could wear other than my patent heels (thank you JJ/Suzanne Todd). Imagine my surprise when I discovered, after traipsing through floors of stores, a second hand mall. That was put together like Anthropologie meets Urban Outfitters meets my favorite thrift store. No moth ball smell, no drooling lady in the corner. Shabby chic floors with paint chipping and change rooms that were once shower stalls, replete with cream tile and a silver drain plus posters of wild looking Tokyo pop stars in rad outfits. I found a black pair of suede boots in my size (this was a miracle: every pair of shoes I tried on in the mall was too small). I also found way too many deals and treasures. Corduroy dresses and ruched turtlenecks, a black leather satchel, a wool vest that looks like it belongs on Goldie Hawn in 1969 and even said, on the label, "Collegetown" -- no dout an import from long ago that somehow found its way to this store and into my hands for the equivalent of $5. I also bought a dress that looks like it came from Austria. Baby doll style, black, with cream stitching on the neck and at the hem. And another dress -- MAD MEN esque, royal blue and black, zip up the back, above the knee. So many women in Tokyo are wearing wool tights and skirts and dresses and boots -- and so shall I. What will I do with all this winter wear back in LA? I will have to keep finding cold places to go.

This is all so far from the world I have been reading about, slowly, in my grandfather Harvey's memoirs. The Taufen farm in Washington state (Uniontown) with an orchard and livestock, acres and acres of wheat (500 give or take), and all his memories that sound to me like an episode of Little House on the Prairie. All the townsmen helping each other when it came time to skin a hog (if anyone wants to know how it's done, or what to avoid, I can advise). Or the one room schoolhouse (called the Taufen school) where children from all ages -- whoever was sent to school -- shared and shivered in until they replaced the potbellied stove with a coal stove. The coming of electricity in 1935 as part of The New Deal...here is a great quote:

"I think it was in the winter of 1925 that I first heard a radio. Henry and Sonora Conner invited our family to hear it one winter evening. We went by sleigh. There was no loud speaker, just a single set of earphones on what must have been a crystal set. I clearly remember the awe with which I heard music when I was given the earphones for a few seconds. Little did I dream of the curse of the television!"

Little did I dream of the curse of the television, my grandfather writes...

I want to skip ahead to World War II, Japan, Wilmington in the '40's and petrochemicals...but then I'd skip over meeting Helen, and the birth of Lester -- my father.

Iron and Wine

It's Sunday which is like my Friday and I'm off to work in 10 minutes -- last day before my weekend. Was just listening to NPR's "All Things Considered" and stopped dead in my tracks when the music interview commenced. I can't remember the artist's name but his album is Iron and Wine and this is the link to the interview:

http://www.npr.org/2011/01/22/133059790/iron-and-wine-beyond-the-bedroom-studio

Got the chills listening to the song about the tree by the river...I may have to buy this album. I found Regina Specktor on NPR, too...something tells me I'm gonna love this guy.

My coffee routine is not yet perfected. I bought a strainer the other night in the grocery store after two failed attempts with paper coffee filters that ripped, spilling unforgiving grounds into what I had hoped would be my morning salvation. Now -- I put the "Blendy" grounds (with the word "Kilimanjaro" written in Katakana) in the strainer meant for loose tea, then add my powdered milk and one sugar tube. It does the job -- but I find myself daydreaming of my french press, or the N'espresso machine in Shawn's trailer, the pods of espresso like clean little capsules of perfection. Ah, caffeine! You wily and most wonderful drug. Even with morning callanetics, where I am stretching and rounding my abs towards an as of yet unattained physique, the yawns come thick and long. It is only once I have sipped the dark warm liquid that I feel ready to begin.

I will write these next two days off. I will not force myself, or worry about what it is. But I will write. What do the stories mean? How can I connect them all? I have to start somewhere.

a letter from Anna

Today when I got home from work I checked my mailbox. Inside was an envelope that had drawings of young girls, in bright colors, like some illustration out of The American Girl Store. The return address was from Illinois and the handwriting was that of a child's. Careful. Lines slanted. A small scribble where a letter had been started, but then thought better on. I stared at my own name and my address -- hard to transcribe for an adult, to be sure. Quite a feat for a 7 year old. Nishi-Shinjuku. 6-9-1. Tokyo. Japan. I had tears in my eyes in the elevator, imagining her, imagining me in this place, this far away place where even the address sounds nothing like the ones at home. Could there possibly be more to devour? Staring at her handwriting, I thought of Anna as a baby girl in her high chair, in Oklahoma. Eating her lunch, which I recall was maybe avocado and chicken and pasta. Just bouncing in her high chair, as I listened to Neil and Christina's Daniel Lanois that had come from Anne. Every time I hear the song "I love you," I think of Anna at that moment -- feeling so much love for her. (And then later, of my Uncle Paul -- because the lyrics seem to tell his story...)

Inside the envelope was a note on matching stationary. Dare I write it here? I hesitate -- and therefore will not. Anna wrote it to me, for me. And it will stay with me -- or for anyone who happens to be in my kitchen, as it is on the refrigerator. Now I have to find a good card (there are plenty around these parts) and fill it with my writing, my pen to paper, for my pen pal in Chicago, my niece, not a baby anymore.

There is nothing like getting something in the mail. How could I forget it? When I was here 15 years ago, I wrote letters every day. And anxiously awaited the epistles I'd receive from friends and family. The small stories. The subtle subtext of the mundane and the handwriting itself. The person themselves expressed by their own hand. The punctuation with it's own punctuation, in the way it came to be. Curly cued circles beneath a slap-dashed line for an exclamation point or a period -- either rushed because the next sentence couldn't wait to be told, or carefully rounded so as to bring the entire thought to rest before moving on to the next.

Anna Helen. I can't wait to write to you about Tokyo.

Full Moon Fever

What a moon. I photographed it from the balcony and had to hold my breath to steady the frame. It was so bright in the viewfinder and every time I slipped off it, I had to struggle to get it to come into focus again. It looks like some sort of metal ball, with points drawn across the sphere in perfect right angles. It kept making me think of Darth Vader, or that shot in Star Wars just before we meet him for the first time...

Monday was my day off and I walked around, took lots of pictures, went grocery shopping, did laundry. Tuesday I met up with Nao and saw "Mother and Child" -- very good movie that came out last year! Samuel L. Jackson and Naomi Watts are lovers and Annette Bening is in it...need I say more?

Tonight after work Wakako and I went to Shinjuku station to check out the new "digital poster" spots where the commercial for the school is playing -- every 2 minutes on a 24 hour loop, 15 seconds long. We stopped at the video store and I got some flicks...have been watching RAISING ARIZONA this evening and enjoying it all over again. Seamless voice over that could easily have been overpowering...but it aint. Great music. Holly Hunter and Nicholas Cage at their finest and so many good cameos including John Goodman and Frances McDormand...all those Coen Brothers faves. I'd love to know if there were storyboards on it. So many of the frames are just perfect. Nicolas Cage was so good in this role. Reminded me of his work in Moonstruck...the out there kind of character. He's so much better in this kind of role vs. the 'romantic hero' or the James Bond meets Indiana Jones treasure hunt spy.

Skyped with Chris and Bentley this AM -- they are in Memphis, TN...going to GRACELAND!

Shooting in Japan -- Gotta do it

You Say Soup, I say RAMEN

Went for a run this morning before work and it was inspired thanks to the views and the music. Taught 2 classes today and feel a little tired. Was almost too tired to wash my face and apply my night cream, but I rallied in the name of saving face.

I am in the market for DVD's now that the portable DVD player from work has been hooked up to my 60 inch Hitachi. Went to YAHOO to browse news and such and was amazed by floods in Australia and also the fact that the earth's 'wobble' is being treated like a new thing. Learned that chestnut in my astronomy class at UVA 14 years ago. Yahoo kind of creeps me out. It feels very big brother to me...like it changes noticeably every 2-3 days. At times all the headlines are patriotic and US politics focused. Other times it's all natural disasters all over the world. And still others it's feel good stories about local do-gooders and 7 ways to shop smart at the grocery store. I'd be curious to know what those internal meetings are like for the big boys like MSN and AOL and MOBILE ME.

As for Google, I'm not sure I want to know. They know everything about me from my emails, from this blog, and from my google searches. I wouldn't be surprised if Google announced a new service called "Online Therapy Session," where you have a live 'chat' to talk about your problems, fears, concerns. It'd be a computer, but they'd do everything they could to make it feel like a real person. And they'd already know all your vices. That being said, I'm impressed by Google. What a big idea that was. Talk about a genie in the bottle. "Your wish is my command..."

This just in: My face is about to be on 28 billboards in Tokyo. As an advertisement for the school. In addition, most of the train stations have video playing inside the train car (does NYC have this yet?). To boot, as you walk through the train station, there are many screens that play ads or privately created commercials for whatever it is you want eyeballs to see. My video, that I shot last week, is going to be the featured 'ad' on these screens. I'm not sure how I feel about this. It's good -- but it's not one of my characters, and it's not something I wrote...it's a pretty well shot infomercial for the school -- and for my class in particular. We'll see if it increases attendance. In the meantime, I will be sure to take a picture in front of the billboard and place it here, for your loving eyeballs to see.

Did I mention there wasn't this much technology 15 years ago, when I was a teenager? What would Fran Liebowitz say about Japan? If you haven't seen the documentary Marty (like I know him) Scorcese did with Fran Liebowitz entitled "Public Speaking," you can find it on Netflix or HBO. I want her to be my Yahoo. But perhaps she'd say: "that's the problem. You should want yourself to be your own Yahoo." -- Or not.

Started looking for good character actor clips on youtube today to share with my students. Found a bunch and am compiling a mental list even as I type -- more to search. That is one of the beautiful things about technology -- so many resources at your fingertips. It's created a new breed of professionals well epitomized by Lisbeth Salander in Stieg Larsson's trilogy. She knows how to splice and dice that knowledge for what she needs. So frustrating to search through all those clips and keep finding people doing montages with their favorite songs. That's like doing a mix tape to no one in particular. It's not going to mean anything to a stranger -- even though it means so much to you. Better to let the original work live there -- let other people get something from it in its original form. Like Meryl Streep in the scene from Sophie's Choice when she must choose. Oh lordy. There I was like a fool tonight at work, earbuds in, crying. I spent a while in that era, watching clips from the 80's and early 90's when so and so would win an oscar for their performance. There was one year when Sissy Spacek was up for the Oscar along with Debra Winger, Julie Andrews and Jessica Lange. That was the year Meryl won for Sophie's choice (1983 I think). I noticed that everyone's attire seemed more like a function at Lincoln Center than the fashion show it is today.

Talked about Emoto Masaru today -- the Japanese scientist who did experiments with water that were featured in WHAT THE BLEEP do we know...how when you play Mozart and place the speakers in front of a glass of water you get beautiful designs and how when you yell at water you get something like looks like a disease under a microscope. I tried to convey that human beings are 98% water -- and that we carry those energies, received and also felt, around with us.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Masaru_Emoto

Our thoughts have an energy to them -- but not only that, they have the ability to change molecules -- especially water molecules.

Watery (and Deep) Thoughts, but Regina Taufen.

A Schmorgasborg of Thoughts for Friday Night

Today marks my first week in Japan. This time last week I was stumbling into my apartment, searching for my ethernet cord, aka my umbilical cord to the world, that enables this thing we call a BLOG. 15 years ago, when I was here as a teenager, if someone had said 'ethernet' I might have thought that was either:

A. a sci-fi word from an as of yet unshot James Cameron movie starring Linda Hamilton about the rise of Skynet.

B. A new kind of stocking sold only in high end lingerie stores with giggled over velcro openings and the endorsement of both Jessica Hahn and Suzanne Somers.

But it is not 15 years ago, and I know too well that the net in our ether is the web in our sky. I am warm from a bath and ready to sleep -- feeling self-satisfied that I cooked tonight and even packed my lunch for tomorrow. It gets too expensive, buying each day from the petit marietsu (super market with a somewhat french name in orange creamsicle) which is on the ground floor of the building where I work. Even better, I successfully hooked up the convection oven/microwave do-hickey that had been in my bedroom/living room. I probably just avoided death by electrocution as I had been keeping the convection box next to the sink, plugged in around the faucet. Today at work, I noticed that the microwave had the same 2 wire function in back of it: the plug, and a smaller, green wire that had copper threads. This second wire had been hooked into a small opening beneath the plug -- and after I took note of this I asked Wakako: "so...my convection oven has that same green wire thing...what is that for?" She told me it grounds the appliance and that I should check out my washing machine (in the bathroom) to see how it's attached. This I also did upon my return, using the silver V ring my Mom gave me in 7th grade as makeshift screwdriver to loosen the screw before inserting the copper wiring and screwing it tight again. It now sits atop the already tall refrigerator, and I reach it by standing on a stool, but it is safely plugged in and grounded, away from the sink, and no longer taking up precious counter space. A Tetris triumph.

I am my Father's daughter and not intimidated by hooking things up or solving a problem with my hands. All this while my rice cooked on the stove and I drank my beer. I'm trying to limit myself to one beer a night lest I become a drunk during my time in Tokyo. And if I am already a drunk, I am merely practicing self restraint to limit potential weight gain and keep myself sharp to take advantage of every day here.

I came home tonight and asked the 24 hour security for help figuring out my mailbox code. It was supposedly supposed to be in a binder, in the apartment (along with the directions on how to hooked up my convection oven miracle machine that does everything from toast bread to cook a custard) -- but alas this binder never materialized. The kind man who answered my bell (there is a convenient bell to ring right before you enter the lobby) was a bit taken aback by me in my little white hat and fur coat. I explained that I lived on the 6th floor and could he please tell me the code for my box? He thought the code was in the binder so we came upstairs and I showed him that sure enough, I didn't have a binder, just some papers on recycling (the recycle room is in the basement and it is an exhibit on how materials should be divided -- plus the room has a door that opens to the alley where a garbage truck that is just the size of the door backs in and puts the respective materials in their respective sections of the truck...).

The man was funny and explained that he didn't have the code, his boss did, and could I wait 5 minutes? So I stood by the mailboxes and stared at a pamphlet on how to protect yourself from perverts by taking karate classes for self defense. I was staring at the cartoon of the woman doing what looked like a "hai ya!" move to the pervert dressed all in navy (ie: "chikan") when a little old lady said "konbanwa" while getting her mail. I said "good evening" back to her and she asked if I was reading the notices and answered "I'm trying to," and she complimented me on my Japanese. God bless these sweet old ladies who tell me my Japanese is excellent. It tickles the g-spot of my ego and I could sit there for hours, saying: "it's really not that good," watching as they disagree and become even more impressed with my mini-bio regarding my whereabouts in Japan. But then the sweet man was back with my mailbox code and he opened it in a flurry, pointing out the fact that all I had in there was ads which was to be expected as I'd only been here for a week. He was making his way back to the all night security station when I stopped him. "Could you write it down for me? The code? I watched you but I'm sure I won't remember!" He took out a pen and I turned over one of the ads. "Kanji yomimasu ka?" Do you read kanji? he asked and I said I could figure it out. Then he demonstrated again and then I did it once. I was very proud of myself and told him as much in Japanese. "I learned it!" I said, and he bowed, offering his services whenever I might need something.

When I went through the mail I wanted to run back down to my new friend and show him...it wasn't just all ads -- I had a letter! From Yoshi San -- my mentore and the very first exchange student to Radnor High School in the 1960's! When I lived here in high school, Yoshi San took me everywhere, making sure I saw so much of both Japan and the culture. I recognized her handwriting immediately and opened the large envelope to find the most beautiful 4 page letter, welcoming me back to Japan with pictures of me from when I was here, dancing on Christmas Eve and dressed in kimono. She brought me up to date on all her relatives and told me the dates she'd be in Tokyo. I cannot wait to see her again!!! And my security friend thought I wouldn't have mail -- he doesn't know I have people here!

I watched a bit of Japanese TV while I ate dinner. I haven't figured out how to program the TV to read the portable DVD player as the media it should be paying attention to...the remote is all in kanji and the writing is small, too small for me to even begin counting strokes and looking them up in the dictionary. So I chalked up the colorful game show and slice of life segments to language practice and watched as 4 women sat and talked about the meal they made, an upcoming wedding, the little dog that sat yawning in the cook's arms, and some other topic that I couldn't quite figure out. All the while a small square box kept cutting to different faces back at the studio audience. One was the host (I think) and others were members of the audience. They weren't doing anything besides listening and watching with interest, as if giving the viewers at home a model for how they should be watching. When it's funny, they laugh, when it's interesting, they raise an eyebrow. I guess it's the equivalent of a laugh track...or maybe I'm missing something else entirely. Remember when music videos had those pop up bits of text for a while that gave you mindless trivia about the musicians or the where the video was shot or how many takes it took to get the whipped cream off the bikini clad breasts of all those models? It came and went. It was too much information. She said, in the time of too much information.

So that is all she wrote on this Friday night. I'm attaching a pic of me in my new jacket for Aunt Cathy. Taken just outside of work tonight as I was heading home...to bed!

It's Thursday night, 1/13, but in Los Angeles it's Wednesday

Braille on the beer can. Braille on the beer can.

Tonight I left work at 8pm. Officially I work from 11-7 but today I had a class at 5 -- and afterwards (it ended at 6:40) we were all chatting about this and that and I was on the Japanese IKEA website and boom, I realized it was time to go home. I went to the grocery store and got some sushi (just like Whole Foods but more for your $!), came home and watched AN EDUCATION. I've seen it a few times before but I felt like relaxing into the performances and so I did. I also got a kick out of watching Rosamund Pike's again (she plays the daft blond that befriends Jenny's character). I interviewed her this summer on the set of THE BIG YEAR while working as a field producer and actually got to direct her doing improv. Whether or not the bit I directed makes it to the DVD is anyone's guess..but it was a cool realization: the last time I saw that movie I was laughing at and loving her performance and this time I thought to myself: "oh, there's Rosamund!"

Class was really great today. I tried some new things with music and pronunciation...using a song to get the class to work on their pronunciation -- to sing it aloud, and then having the recite the same text without and melody. We used Queen's "I want to ride my bicycle! I want to ride my bike. I want to ride my bicycle..." The difference between them saying it cold and then after they sang it was amazingly clear -- the music really helped them relax and run the words together more naturally. We also hammered out the difference between "R" and "L" -- commonly hard for Japanese speakers of English. "R" doesn't require you touch your tongue to the roof of your mouth and "L" does. We did that a lot -- playing with different words and contrasting vowel sounds. I also played the free association word game as a warm up, going around in a circle and letting the person to your left (or right) be the catalyst for whatever word pops into your head. It was funny -- Wakako (who joins every class and translates what I cannot manage in Japanese) was generally translating what I said, even when I said something in Japanese. At one point I turned to her and said "what" because it was the first word that popped into my head and she started to translate what Yoshi (to my left) had said. I laughed and explained that for this game, she was off the hook and was under no obligation to translate anything.

Yoshi is cast in the Japanese version of Les Mis and Yukine is a working stage actress. Koichi san also works at the school so I have known him in the office, but it was a strong class as all of them really got the improv/status idea with no problem. I find myself watching them commit and imagining a character they could play, a scene I could shoot, etc. It really is amazing to watch actors do what they do. Because you get the feeling, that familiar feeling, that it's all they want to be doing. There is no anxiety or awkwardness. Instead there is freedom in being removed from yourself. I'm probably projecting my own experience, but there it is.

It's freezing cold these days so I was very happy for the gift I received yesterday from Kawabata san -- a beautiful Cecil McBee white fur jacket, with a silk lining and white leather zipper. It's really something. I have nothing like it and it fits me well. It's so warm and although I felt like a bit of a glamour girl, in my white beret and white fur jacket and heels at the grocery store tonight, I thought: "why not?"

Brought gifts for everyone this morning. Gave Nao and Wakako a necklace and earring set that I made before leaving LA. It really fit both of them...in Japanese you'd say: "ni atteru." The guys got incense holders, incense and sweets. Everyone was yorokobu (happy).

Wakako also makes jewelry (I've discovered) and she is already sending me links to Tokyo's flea markets. Tokyo's flea markets! O lord I'm gonna need a steamer to ship all my finds home by sea!

Nao made tea and brought sweets

Today Nao brought sweets from her trip over our days off. She also made green tea for all of us and after lunch, she served us individual portions of warm MATCHA (like green tea ice cream flavor but better cuz it's the real thing). The sweet cake tasted like a potato that had been saturated in custard with a soft, marshmallow like skin as thin as paper, lightly powdered on the outside.

I took a picture of my stamp -- pressed into my 'meishi' -- or business card. On the right side, from top to bottom, the katakana says "Regina." On the left side it is a kanji that my shodo (calligraphy) teacher's father made up once upon a time for "Taufen." It is one of a kind. Mezurashii.

Monday night was the first night I cooked in my kitchen...and I took a little video. Or, as you would say in Japan, "BIDEO O TORIMASHITA." It is uploaded below!

I have been watching BBC movies thanks to Mom's Christmas DVD's. Finished Jane Eyre tonight. Timothy Dalton played Rochester in this version and although he is such a fine actor, I couldn't help but continuously flashing back to Orson Welles. Rochester is described as not so good looking, even by Jane herself...so it's harder in those scenes to believe -- even when Timothy Dalton's face is badly scarred, etc. He's just too suteki (good looking). Orson Welles was great casting. He wasn't handsome at first sight but he had a power to him. Same thing with Jane Eyre. She wasn't 'beautiful'...and yet, and yet -- she was. Screw you Brocklehurst. Remember the pious and unforgiveable Mr. Brocklehurst? What a great name. Brocklehurst. Sounds like a a cross between a root vegetable and a skin pustule.

Started to watch Wuthering Heights and remembered reading it in high school. Talk about a Debbie Downer. Cathy is really off her rocker. I'd love to see Fred Armisen and Kristen Wiig do that sketch of Cathy and Heathcliff. But I don't think anyone would get it because no one reads anymore. They should start doing a version of cliff notes as webisodes for the average high school student. Said Mrs. Shouldinski -- a 'coming soon' Kitty Landers character.

Here's the Fujiyama Mama's first homemade dinner. Time to sleep. Oyasuminasai! Chris and Bentley: ITTARASSHAI!

It's 1/11/11 -- do you know where your ones are?

On November 11th, 2011, it will be 11/11/11.

CRAZY.

Something I realized when I got out of my bath tonight, all sweaty and relaxed and super aware, was that the objects around me with Japanese writing take on an almost meta state. Being in Japan is kind of a lesson in semiotics. Everything is a signifier. Everything is a sign. This may also have to do with the fact that I am living in Tokyo, and signage is, well -- abundant.

I do not miss my phone! I miss the convenience of calling people but have only reached into my purse to take a picture or a video. I am observing everyone else around me, and in crowded places (like the subway or waiting to cross at the cross walk) everyone is in their phones, barely looking up. It's like Ferris Bueller says/John Hughes wrote: "Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while -- you could miss it!"

Wakako and I went to the immigration office today to get my alien registration card. I have to go back to get the actual card and in the meantime have a slip of paper that's like a temporary driver's license. Then we went to the same bank where my employer has an account. I never thought it would be this hard to set up a bank account, but apparently the Japanese are very wary of foreigners using accounts to launder dirty money. As if some money was 'clean.' Nevertheless, I was SO excited when the bank teller informed me that the marble stamp that was carved for me by my calligraphy teacher when I was 18 -- would help verify my identity (along with my actual alien registration card). She said that nowadays, everyone has a plastic stamp and they are very easy to replicate -- but that my stamp was clearly unique and pretty much impossible to duplicate. Picture of my stamp to follow (Cathy...CAW! CAW!).

Wakako showed me around the good shopping area of Shinjuku and we stopped for a yummy and relatively cheap lunch at a kind of closet eatery where you put your yen in a machine, press the number meal you want, and give your ticket to the smiling lady with the apron. Out comes a bowl with rice, meat, shredded green onions, and an egg on the top. For 500 yen (around 6 bucks) it's a great meal.

Then we took a bus and the subway to SHIBUYA...the fashion center of Tokyo. It was fashion filled. We walked along the river with storefronts on either side (reminded me of the venice canals except there was a one lane road on each side plus stores instead of just residences). We passed a bunch of funky looking shops and went to a button store. It was glorious. Buttons from Paris, Austria, and beyond...gorgeous, old buttons, vintage buttons, florescent buttons...as well as just beautiful things. It was Just Tantau (on Abbott Kinney) meets a button museum.

Stopped for dinner at a spot in Shibuya that used to be a factory. Still had the doors on roller tracks and the grated cages for the lights above. Felt like they had the satellite radio tuned to the 40's with lots of jazz.

Home again, home again, jiggity jig. Said the little piggie in her furry fleece nightgown that is most likely one size too small. It's like I'm wrapped in a blanket that is wrapped in another blanket, like a pig in a blanket...how I love Pigs in a Blanket...

My New Hood..."The Sound of the Crow"

Sunday was a Work Day...& it went a little something like this!

Yesterday I taught my third class which was groovy. My students so far are Shigeru, Hideyoshi, Yayoi, Tomoyuki, Yoshi, Rie, Rishi, Kento, Takashi, Naoto, and Mae. When it's time for class, Wakako and I head down to the third floor, Wakako bringing the video camera and tripod (Every class is taped!). We move the desks that are on wheels out of the way and clear the space in time for the class to arrive. Koichi, who is also an actor and works at the school, came to yesterday's lesson and also took a lot of video with his handheld. He was basically getting b-roll for my 'acting coach' video, which we shot after class.

We all had lunch and then they showed me the storyboards...very simple set up with me at my desk, then a walk and talk, then going into a room, entering a room, and finally a shot on the roof as the sun was going down. It was cold and Wakako ran to get me a blanket. We did one take and that was that, taking a group picture on the auto setting before going back inside. I sat at my desk and sent some emails, also filling out my alien registration form and testing out my marble stamp that was made for me when I was an exchange student. You press the stamp into an inkpad and my name "Regina" is in Katakana with a created Kanji next to it. Every Japanese person has their own stamp -- it's what you do here vs. signing your name on a official document. You use your stamp. Kawabata san (my boss) gave me his meishi (business card) and I stamped one of my own, giving it to him. Everyone was impressed that I had a stamp. I said I was happy I could finally use it -- after all these years!

Wakako gathered my bio, my headshot and resume -- as well as all my acting clips. From what I understand, this is for the Japanese TV show. In my video for the school as well as in the bio my "Best Actress" award for Kitty is top billing. Kitty Landers Lives!

While I was at the desk, Koichi was editing everything we shot -- and then asked me to dub my last bit on the roof. At first I was worried -- I liked the performance and was afraid it would sound unnatural. But he had the software similar to looping -- with the three beeps at the head. And when I saw it played back I was surprised to see that it really did make a difference, not having the ambient sound. I was amazed at how fast he put everything together on I-movie. The whole thing was CUT when I was ready to leave at 7pm.

I went to the grocery store (not even a half a block from work), and bought a bunch of groceries, some of which might really test my ability to read the directions (cook time, amount of water, etc). It could be a whole new cooking show where I use my dictionary and my instincts. My cooking instincts. Hmmmm. I sense a new blog post regarding this very experiment. Maybe I could put my video camera on a tripod and let it roll as I experiment in my fancy Tokyo kitchen.

Everything in the Japanese grocery store is individualized, presented, wrapped and contained. Hard to explain but you feel very conscious of what you are buying. I wished Saemi (who plays "Fumiko" in Kitty Landers) had been with me as I went grocery shopping with her in Korea Town after Anna Christopher's holiday party...and she was such a pro. Able to discern what meat looked good, what fruit was worthy, etc. I'm sure I'll get better but as it was, I was straining to read the Katakana in the dairy section and am pretty sure I bought milk instead of cream. Less curdled cottage cheese for my thighs.

I have been up since 5:30 this morning...had a small dinner and 1.5 beers while watching Japanese TV last night and was in a drooly slump by 10PM. Today and tomorrow are days off. Skyped with Chris and Mom and Dad (although Mom and Dad's skype was off...it was just the picture, no sound. We did a bunch of charades and I did most of the talking). But we connected, which felt AWESOME! I forgot to tell them that Yumi Suzuki asked after them when we spoke. They loved the story that we have already reconnected. Going to do an exercise video and make my way out to a museum!!! Bringing my new Nikon and am excited to be the lone artist, capturing what catches my fancy.

Will hopefully post some pics from work and from the shoot in this post. Featured are my co-workers, Wakako, Koichi, Koda-San, Nao and Kawabata San. That's the whole kit and kaboodle at The River Hollywood Training School -- plus Regina Taufen -- acting coach in Residence!

First Full Day in Tokyo...WOW

I woke up after a 10 hour sleep. I felt rested but disoriented. Didn't I have something to do? Something big. Where was Bentley? Under the bed? Then I remembered: I was on a futon. I was in Japan. I was here. How was Bentley? I skyped with Chris. It was afternoon in LA! Bentley was fine. He had waited and waited for me to come home last night...but he was fine. He is fine.

Taught my first 2 classes today! I feel I have known Wakako, Koda San, Nao and Kawabata San for a long time. Koda San gave me a starbucks travel mug and instant starbucks coffee packets (JOY) and Kawabata San left sweet cakes on my desk. The day went very fast and when the day was done (at 7pm) I was taken out for my welcome dinner. Should have taken a picture at the table but I have just been in a dream, really...I wore the medallion Grandmom gave to me a long time ago with a black turtleneck. At dinner, I told my co-workers about how my grandparents had traveled to Japan a lot in the 40's and 50's and how, when I was little, I was used to seeing ikebana and japanese dolls in their house...so perhaps that's where my curiosity with the culture started. Koda San complimented me on the medallion not long after I had been talking about them... We all studied it and they wanted to know where it was from...that it was reminiscent of dragons. I said for all I knew, it was from here.

My Japanese is like that old sweater you forgot you had and take out of the moth ball box. It fits and has come back and style...and the smell of mothballs is not so much overpowering as nostalgic. It is better than I expected. I still understand women better than men, but I also realized that when I focus on the energy of what is being said, the meaning is much clearer, somehow. The words I don't know stand out but I'm still able to retain the gist of what is being said. Wakako is an amazing translator.

A lot of small amazing things have been happening but something that brought tears to my eyes happened tonight at dinner. I was telling the story of the earthquake, and how I came to have 5 host families during my time here as an exchange student, one in particular -- in Kamakura. I told them how I wanted to reunite with this one couple, the Suzuki's, who had taken me in. I have such fond memories of my month long stay with them and had sent them a Christmas card in hopes of reconnecting -- but hadn't heard from them. Somehow, I mentioned their children's names...and ZIP ZAP ZUP -- Wakako thinks she knows their son, Ken. We keep putting the pieces together, isn't his name "Kenichiro," and did he go to Kyoto Daigaku...I remembered that detail and the more we compared notes, she was positive she went to high school with him. So then I took out my i-touch to show her the address, which also had their number transcribed from many moons ago...and she calls them! Before I know it, she is on the phone with Yumi Suzuki, who remembers Wakako -- but cannot believe that Wakako is sitting next to "Regina Taufen," the exchange student they once hosted. Wakako handed me the phone and Yumi and I chatted. It's been 15 years! She is excited for me to come visit, and since Wakako is from a nearby town we are going to make the journey together. We all sat there, marveling at the small world. Wakako said something in Japanese that I had a hard time fully getting, but the gist of it is something like this: "It's a small world so be mindful of what you do and say, because chances are it will come back to you through the people you meet -- and it will make all the difference."

Lots of other great stuff going on...I may be on a Japanese TV show (Kawabata san knows a lot of people in the entertainment industry and asked if I was interested today). Me? Interested in being on TV? I don't know...I think they may need to twist my arm.

24 hours in Japan and so far so good. Truly. So far, so good.

PS: O FURO

I took an O FURO, or bath, tonight. That is what the Japanese do: bathe at night. It is a worthy pursuit.

Took a video at the airport.

DOOZO!

The Fujiyama Mama has Landed

I am here!

Airport quiet as a church with no hassle on bags or wait on transpo to downtown Tokyo. Reminded me of Manhattan as we approached but then, once in the metro-polis -- the neon katakana, all manga-like, screamed Tokyo. Or should I say..."whispered politely"?

Yes. It Whispered. But it was no careless whisper. WHAM would surely approve. In fact, I bet they probably played here, once upon an 80s evening...

Time to collapse.